


Ice Cream Cake

by rendawnie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bars and Pubs, Bartender Doyoung, Clubbing, Dancing, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, Flirting, Friendship, Go-Go Boy Taeyong, Go-Go Boy Yuta, Hook-Up, Humor, I'm sorry Jaehyun, Ice Cream, Internal Monologue, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Polyamory, Post-Break Up, Sexual Humor, Starting Over, Swearing, This veers into crack for several paragraphs and I don't know what to say about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 18:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15646419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rendawnie/pseuds/rendawnie
Summary: Sometimes, it’s hard to pinpoint the exact event, the exact moment in the downward spiral that led to rock bottom. Sometimes it takes months, years, to end up at the grocery store on a Friday night in your pajamas, clutching a half-eaten carton of ice cream you haven’t even paid for under one arm and wandering through the aisles aimlessly, scooping more of the sweet dessert out and into your mouth every few steps, using a giant plastic serving spoon you “borrowed” from the picnic supplies aisle.





	Ice Cream Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shuuvee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuuvee/gifts).



> Happy birthday, sweetheart! I hope this lives up to the hype <3

Sometimes, it’s hard to pinpoint the exact event, the exact moment in the downward spiral that led to rock bottom. Sometimes it takes months, years, to end up at the grocery store on a Friday night in your pajamas, clutching a half-eaten carton of ice cream you haven’t even paid for under one arm and wandering through the aisles aimlessly, scooping more of the sweet dessert out and into your mouth every few steps, using a giant plastic serving spoon you “borrowed” from the picnic supplies aisle.

Ten knew exactly what brought him here.

The knowledge didn’t make anything easier or better, he found.

He sniffled, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his favorite fuzzy cardigan, then swiped at his wet eyes too, after a moment. He didn’t want to go home. Home meant being alone with his thoughts about everything that had happened that day. At least here, in relative public, he could force himself to keep going, even if that just meant putting one foot in front of the other and shoving the comically oversized spoon in his hand back into the ice cream until it was completely gone.

_Oh._

Ten glanced down, the currently permanent frown on his face deepening. He didn’t _remember_ finishing off the rest of the carton. But here he was, scraping the bottom with his spoon listlessly, and it was just sort of reminding him of how empty his life was, at the moment, and honestly, he didn’t care for that shit _at all._

Heaving a sigh, Ten changed course, turning his feet and his body back towards the frozen food section. If he was going to double down on the misery, he might as well do it right. Another four or five servings of his favorite ice cream wouldn’t hurt.

He shuffled back over to the ice cream cooler slowly, flattening the carton in his hand down so he could carry it easier.

So he could carry _two_ of them easier.

By the time Ten reached the promised land (again), he was scowling, replaying his entire afternoon in his mind on a loop, and just generally not paying attention to his surroundings whatsoever. He was focused. He had a goal. And that goal was get. More. Ice cream.

He yanked the cooler door open, thrusting one hand inside to grab for the very last pint of his favorite flavor. _You deserve this,_ he reminded the tiny, guilty voice inside his head.

He hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings, and so, when another arm appeared out of nowhere just as Ten was closing his fingers around the freezing ice cream carton and made a grab for the very same treat, Ten let out an undignified little shriek, pulling his hand back immediately.

His eyes shot up to identify the source of the tan, toned arm, and sure enough, there was another guy hovering in his orbit, flashing Ten an aggressively polite grin as he claimed the very last carton of ice cream for himself.

“‘Scuse me. Just gonna take this,” the guy murmured in Ten’s direction, and he was about to turn and leave, and Ten was about to let him, but then the poorly timed weasels that lived in his brain decided to put a stop to the proceedings.

“Uh, I think that’s _mine_ ,” Ten protested, hands on his hips now. He was sure he looked absolutely _insane,_ standing in the middle of the supermarket in his pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, hands on his hips and tear tracks running down his cheeks. He just couldn’t quite bring himself to care. Not when ice cream was on the line.

The guy looked Ten up and down, his smile turning a bit wry. “Uh huh. Well. First come, first served,” he answered, eyeing the empty carton under Ten’s arm. “Looks like you’ve already been served.”

Ten felt his jaw drop, because _how fucking rude._ He’d just come here to attempt a good time, or whatever, and now he was being attacked not only by this person’s irritating _hotness,_ but also, his terrible attitude.

He _was_ irritatingly hot, Ten mused as they stared at each other, well-mannered challenges in their eyes. He was a bit taller than Ten, built in a way that immediately suggested he could swing Ten over his head one-handed if he felt like it, and his hair was a dirty shade of blonde, long enough to fall into his eyes.

Ten had only been single for… two hours and twenty-six minutes. He began repeating that fact over and over to himself, hoping it would stick to one of his last three remaining brain cells.

“ _Listen,_ ” he started indignantly, when he came back to himself enough to form words, “I’m _very_ sure you haven’t had as bad of a day as I have. I _deserve_ that ice cream.” He paused, knowing full well that he was about to teeter over into petulant territory, and decided to do nothing stop it. “ _Gimme it,_ ” Ten whined unhappily.

The guy chuckled. “Sorry, sweetheart. Fair’s fair. This one’s mine,” he said decisively, letting the cooler door swing shut as he turned to leave.

Ten hadn’t known there could be a rock bottom _lower_ than rock bottom, but he learned real quick, because in the next few seconds, he had crumbled to the hard tile floor of the frozen food section, head in his hands, and he was sobbing.

Look. There’s crying, right? There’s dignified crying, a quiet release of emotions. And then? Then there’s _sobbing._ Sobbing is crying’s drunk sister, flailing on the bed after one too many shots of soju and overexposure to sad love songs, all at once.

Ten was _sobbing._

He couldn’t help himself. He’d expended so much energy in the last two and a half hours just trying to hold himself together even as much as he _was,_ and it had been exhausting. So now he was here, surrounded by the empty ice cream carton and spoon that only served as reminders of how low he’d truly sunk, soaking the sleeves of his cardigan with fresh tears, spilling over the ones that had already dried across his face.

Ten was sure the guy was gone. He would have to be just as insane as Ten, if he stayed to watch this meltdown. He was sure the minute Ten hit the floor, the handsome stranger had left with Ten’s ice cream, silently celebrating his dubious victory.

“Hey,” came a voice only a second later, closer to Ten’s ear than he expected. He didn’t look up. Part of him knew it was the same voice that had come out of the ice cream thief he’d only just met. Part of him didn’t want to confirm that thought, didn’t want to complete the circle of embarrassment he was drowning in.

“Hey,” the voice said again, softer, and Ten cracked one eye open just enough to see the last, precious, not-empty ice cream carton thump onto the floor next to him. For a fleeting, upsetting moment, Ten wondered if he could just… grab it and run away. Like, literally, were his legs _capable_ of that, right now? Probably not. That realization made Ten even sadder.

He sobbed harder.

Those sobs came to a shuddering halt when Ten felt a comforting hand slide across his shoulders and down his back, rubbing gently. Christ, this guy was so _warm._ How dare he?? How dare he come here, to Ten’s frozen food section, try to steal his ice cream, and then have the absolute nerve to actually be decent and human and sweet?? Ten was _so_ upset, about _so_ many things.

“What’s going on?” the guy asked after a while, his hand still gliding back and forth over the back of Ten’s cardigan. “Do you need to talk about it?”

Ten sniffled. “ _No._ ”

A beat passed between them.

Ten sighed. “I got dumped today.”

“That’s shitty,” came the reply.

“I got fired today,” Ten continued.

There was a soft chuckle. “Which is it?”

Ten lifted his head. He didn’t look at the stranger. He used the time to take a deep, snot-filled breath and blink rapidly into the fluorescent lights on the supermarket ceiling, willing all his orifices to stop weeping. “Both.”

The hand on Ten’s back moved away. Ten tried not to frown about it.

“That’s definitely a hell of a day,” the guy said finally. He didn’t press Ten for details. Ten would have given them either way, really.

“I got dumped by my boss, who then fired me,” Ten admitted. “He said our relationship was starting to affect my work, and that he knew I wouldn’t be able to shake it off and just be an employee again if we weren’t together.”

The guy might have been about to say something, but Ten wasn’t done. He wasn’t _nearly_ done. “I mean, my job was just filing. Filing! I could file in my sleep!” Ten railed unhappily.

“But no. _Stupid Jung Jaehyun_ can’t handle my mere presence in his office if we’re not banging. God, I hate him so much,” Ten muttered, staring at the carton of ice cream on the floor between he and the guy. It was starting to melt, just a little. He considered just opening it and digging his big ass spoon in right there where he sat. Maybe he’d even let the guy have a bite, since he was being weirdly nice.

“Jeez,” the stranger said after a while. “You really _do_ deserve this ice cream.”

Ten glanced up quickly, forgetting that he still looked tragic, probably, and the guy was smiling again. He really _did_ have an incredible smile. It was sort of unfair.

“I’m Yuta,” the guy offered, when their eyes met.

“Ten.”

Yuta squinted at Ten for a moment. He looked like he was considering something. Ten held his breath and waited.

“You probably don’t want to be alone right now, huh.”

Ten bit his lip and shook his head. There wasn’t any point in denying it. Even if Yuta just stayed here with him, on the floor of the grocery store, for a little while longer, it would be enough.

Yuta pulled out his phone, checking the time. “Well, I have to be at work in a while...” he started, and Ten tried not to show how much that simple sentence caused him to deflate. He was sort of surprised that he _had_ enough oomph left for that much deflation. He guessed there must be another rock bottom, under the second rock bottom, under _both_ of those rock bottoms, and he was glad he apparently hadn’t hit it yet.

“But…” Yuta continued, “you could… you could come with me, if you want?”

Ten blinked. Half an hour ago, he’d entered this grocery store in complete misery, positive his day would only get worse. And now…

“I don’t know…” Ten mused, only partially serious. “I mean, I don’t really know anything about you…”

Yuta smiled widely. “Hmm. Well. My name is Nakamoto Yuta. I’m from Japan. I like anime and dancing. I’m twenty-two, my mom is my best friend, and I sleep with a Pokemon plushie every night.”

Ten squinted at him critically. “ _Which_ Pokemon?”

Yuta straightened up a little, puffing out his chest. “Umbreon, of course.”

Ten grinned. “Only the best, I see.”

“Mmm,” Yuta agreed. “And… how about I make you dinner before we go? Ice cream isn’t exactly a well-rounded meal.”

Ten considered this. He and Yuta were still pretty much perfect strangers, despite the small info dump he’d just received. Strangers who’d shared a critical emotional moment in Ten’s life, but strangers all the same. And yet… either he trusted Yuta more than he should have, or Ten had just stopped caring for his own well-being completely, because…

“Okay,” Ten said with a shrug, picking himself up off the floor and taking the carton of ice cream with him. Yuta watched with quiet amusement as Ten opened the freezer door and put it back in its place.

“For the next person who needs it,” Ten explained as nonchalantly as he could, and then he followed Yuta to the front of the store. He let Yuta pay for his eaten ice cream and his spoon, and tried not to feel bad about it.

“Don’t you want to know what I do for a living?” Yuta asked, when they were almost to the door. “You said yes awfully fast.”

Ten managed a short laugh, the first one he’d let out all afternoon. “I already lost my job and my boyfriend,” he reasoned, as they walked through the parking lot side by side. “If you axe murder me at the end of the night, it might be a blessing.”

He was eighty percent kidding, but it was a good, dark joke. It made Yuta laugh, and that made Ten happy.

“And, anyway,” he continued, falling into the rhythm of Yuta’s strides easily, “Any friend of Umbreon is a friend of mine.”

Yuta might have been blushing. The sun was going down, the sky painting both their faces pink as it went, so Ten couldn’t be sure, but he liked the idea much more than he thought he probably should have.

*

Ten’s apartment was just around the corner from the supermarket, so they stopped there first. Ten might have been at rock bottom, but even in that hole of self-pitying despair, he had just enough pride left not to remain in his pajamas for the rest of whatever this night had in store for him. He changed into tight jeans and an equally tight black t-shirt quickly in his room while Yuta waited, wandering around the rest of Ten’s tiny apartment, stopping every once in a while to flip through a book idly or smile at a framed family photo.

When Ten bustled out of his bedroom, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he’d also spent some time on his hair and even thrown on a little makeup, Yuta was standing in the middle of the living room, holding a suspicious, silvery object between two fingers and smirking.

 _Shit._ Ten had forgotten all about those.

He’d bought the pair of silver holographic hot pants to wear for Jaehyun. The idea of keeping the tiny shorts under his work slacks had excited him, in more ways than one. Ten was an exhibitionist at heart, really, but he might have loved the thought of “secret” exhibitionism more: like, he _might_ be wearing something naughty under his boring work clothes, but only he and a certain special person would know. Mostly because Ten, when he thought about how the whole scenario would go, imagined himself whispering dirty things in said special person’s ear at the beginning of the day, maybe making sure a little sliver of the hot pants peeked out from above his waistband whenever he could, until that special person was driven completely crazy by the very idea of the fantasies Ten purred under his breath when they were alone, and inevitably ended up tossing Ten’s light body on top of the copy machine on the fourth floor and having their way with him, right on the clock.

_Shame that “special person” had lost their chance to experience that._

But Yuta was holding the hot pants, now, because Ten had left them on the couch and forgotten about them for the last week while his relationship began to torpedo itself into the ground. He was holding them, and smirking, and raising one perfectly groomed eyebrow at Ten. “What’s this about, then?” he questioned. He didn’t mention the vast improvement in Ten’s appearance. Ten was annoyed, on top of being embarrassed.

Not that he was going to let Yuta know about the embarrassment. Ten believed in being embarrassed in private, only, and owning up to all your weird shit as hard as you could when interrogated.

“Oh, those?” he began, licking his lips. “Just something I was going to wear for my boyfriend.” Ten paused. “My _ex._  Boyfriend.”

Yuta didn’t say anything, yet.

Ten made himself laugh, a little. To show that he was fine, even when he wasn’t. Not all the way. “Guess he missed his chance.”

Yuta’s smirk downgraded slightly to a grin, and he shoved the hot pants in the back pocket of his jeans, letting the fabric dangle out a bit. “Sucks for him. But, you never know. We might need these later,” he said, more than a little suggestively. Ten didn’t know what he was suggesting. He kind of wanted to find out.

They were halfway to Yuta’s place, standing close together on the packed full subway car, when Yuta leaned over and murmured in Ten’s ear. “You look really nice, by the way.”

Ten was about to answer, but the train hit a bump on the tracks, and his words all melted into a light yelp as he tumbled against Yuta helplessly. Naturally, Yuta caught him easily, with one arm, no less, and then their faces stayed inches apart for just long enough to make Ten wonder if this was what leads in romantic dramas felt like nearly all of the time. He knew he had no business thinking about those kinds of things so soon after being dumped. But, as always, he wasn’t about to let a silly little thing like his _brain_ stop him from having a good time. Not today, when he needed that good time the most.

Yuta’s apartment was small and modest, and meticulously clean. Sitting at the kitchen table while Yuta got ready for work, Ten started to feel a bit guilty for subjecting him to the absolute tornado state his own place had been in. Yuta hadn’t complained about it, of course. But _still._

Ten still didn’t have any idea what Yuta did for a living, and he wasn’t getting any closer to guessing. He got the feeling that Yuta was intentionally not providing him with any clues, the better to surprise him with, so all Ten could really do was prepare himself for anything. It wasn’t that difficult, he found. He was already having a weird day, after all. He’d been dumped and fired, sunk to the lowest of the lows on the floor of the supermarket with his ice cream and big ass spoon, and now he was in an almost-stranger’s apartment, and that almost-stranger was blasting repetitive, obnoxious trance music while he got ready to go to work, at a job Ten continued to be clueless about. All these things were happening to him, and the alternative would have been crying, alone, either at home or in the frozen foods section, so Ten was letting them happen.

When Yuta returned, he was freshly showered and dressed in what seemed like gym clothes, shorts and a sleeveless shirt, carrying a giant duffel bag over one shoulder. Ten. Was still. Clueless.

He stopped caring for a while, because Yuta fed him, the first real meal he’d had all day. It was simple, just fish and some rice, but it might as well have been gold-plated and dripping in truffle oil, for how it tasted to Ten. His first meal post-Jaehyun. His first taste of his new freedom, and he was getting it across the table from Nakamoto Yuta, whom he’d just met at a grocery store and already ugly-sobbed in front of.

Life was just really _strange_ sometimes, and Ten kind of liked it.

After dinner was finished, and Yuta had cleared their bowls and hand-washed them, plus towel-dried and put them back up in the cabinet (Ten tried not to think about the giant pile of dirty dishes that had been sitting in his own sink for weeks, now), they left Yuta’s apartment, heading out to… well, wherever the hell they were going.

The subways were emptier, now, the evening rush having passed, and Ten sat next to Yuta as the train moved along its path quickly, trying to memorize each curve in the track, trying to guess where they might be going. The train seemed to be driving them right into the heart of downtown, and Ten had sort of zoned out for the last few minutes, but then Yuta nudged his shoulder and jerked his head towards the door of the train, and so Ten got up and followed him out and into the station.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Yuta leading the way up to the street, and when they burst out into the warm, summer night air, Ten was finally able to get his bearings. They were indeed downtown, and Ten could smell food from the street vendors and hear the bustle and chatter of people milling all around them, and _fuck,_ he’d almost forgotten how much he loved being here. He liked the idea that there was always something going on, always places open and things to do, no matter what time of day or night it was. He liked the bright lights and the way they glowed through the puddles on the street. He really didn’t come here often enough. He should change that, maybe.

Those thoughts all vanished from Ten’s mind when he felt Yuta slip his hand over Ten’s, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently as he led Ten through alleys and side streets. Ten held his breath as long as he could, afraid that even the tiniest reaction from him would make Yuta pull his own hand away, and thankfully, it wasn’t long enough for Ten to go blue in the face before they turned a corner and ran into a wall of sound and light, and he had no choice but to exhale all at once.

 _CLIMAX,_ the neon sign above two double doors screamed, and honestly? Ten could relate. He felt like this whole day had led up to this. Maybe his whole life, but that was probably just him being dramatic.

Also, Yuta holding his hand was giving him a third of a boner, at least. In his heart. A heart-boner.

As if on cue, Yuta tugged on Ten’s hand until he moved his body beside Yuta’s, instead of behind, and then he let go.

Ten tried not to pout.

“Well, here we are,” Yuta announced cheerfully.

Ten blinked. “This is where you work?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s a bar?” Ten asked.

Yuta considered this. “Mostly, I guess. The finest gay bar in town. It’s a dance club, too, though.”

Ten glanced at Yuta out of the corner of his eye. “Are you a bartender?” he questioned, because he didn’t think he could handle the idea of Yuta doing the kind of dancing he was almost positive went on in a place like this.

Yuta grinned. “Nope.”

_Fuck._

“Oh,” Ten replied, after a long moment of silence. _"Oh."_

Yuta chuckled. “Uh-huh. In you go, handsome,” he ordered, and then he pushed Ten’s entire small person through the door without much more of a warning.

*

It was still early enough that the club wasn’t exactly crowded yet, but there were enough people wandering around for Ten to nearly stumble into several bodies almost immediately. He coughed as sweet-smelling smoke filled his nose, presumably emitting from a machine somewhere nearby. _Christ._ He’d only been in this place five seconds, and he was already humiliating himself.

Luckily, Yuta didn’t seem to care as he led Ten through the darkened main room, past a bar on one wall. He stopped to share a nod of acknowledgment with the bartender, who was currently not tending any bar whatsoever and instead stood crouched over a padlocked and chained ancient-looking mini-fridge that was plopped on the floor behind the bar, attacking it with a pair of bolt cutters while a scantily clad guy watched with a dreamy expression from his seat on a barstool. Ten had no idea what the fuck was going on there, but he didn’t have time to ask, because Yuta paused just long enough to announce, “Doyoung and Taeyong. They’re a thing.” He didn’t bother to indicate which was which or which thing they were, before he herded Ten along once more.

They passed a ridiculously hot, ridiculously _tall_ guy, and Ten couldn’t help swiveling his head around to get a longer glance as they went. Naturally, Yuta caught him.

“That’s Johnny the DJ,” he supplied. “I wouldn’t bother, he’s the Token Straight around these parts,” Yuta said with a laugh.

Ten absorbed that piece of information as he watched Johnny’s head whip around just like Ten’s had a moment before, eyeing Ten up and down and shooting him an appreciative smirk before he went on his way.

Ten bit his lip, turning back to Yuta. Or, back to Yuta’s back, anyway. “Yeah,” he murmured, committing the smirk to memory. “The Token Straight.”

Other names were tossed out at random as they walked, names Ten really didn’t even try to memorize, and then, Yuta swerved down an even darker hallway and opened a door to Ten’s right, and there was finally some damn light in this place.

Ten blinked rapidly, squinting at the sudden change in brightness, while Yuta walked in ahead of him, tossing his duffel bag onto a couch pushed against one corner of the bright pink painted room. “Welcome to my dressing room!” he said with a grin and a grand sweep of the arm, and before Ten could answer or react, Yuta stripped his _entire_ shirt off, right there in front of Ten.

“Fucking hell,” Ten muttered before he could stop himself, because, well… fucking _hell._ Apparently, Yuta had been hiding an entire thirty-seven pack under his shirt in the few hours since they’d met, and now it was all out on display, and Ten’s throat had inconveniently gone very, very dry.

Yuta just chuckled, turning away to dig through his duffel bag casually, behaving as if he hadn’t just suddenly turned Ten into a compass near north with one smooth motion. “Sorry about that,” he said non-apologetically. “Clothes aren’t exactly sacred around here.”

Ten swallowed, hard. “Uh. I… I see that,” he answered dumbly, his legs finally giving out and forcing him to sink down onto the couch.

Rather triumphantly, Yuta extracted what looked like an extra tiny piece of red material from his bag, followed by a jar full of something sparkly and red, and set them both on the vanity on the wall opposite the couch. “Just gonna change into my uniform,” he said conversationally. “There’s just the one room here, so… close your eyes if you don’t want to see anything, I guess?” Yuta shrugged.

Ten did not close his eyes.

He didn’t exactly _look,_ either, to be fair. Instead, he pretended to be extremely interested in his phone, pressing buttons at random and doing some light scrolling while he watched every move Yuta made out of the corner of his eye. He was positive Yuta knew he was watching, and that he made a point to flex every muscle he could in response. Just… so much flexing. Ten was mildly overwhelmed.

By the time Yuta shoved his shorts down his legs, and Ten became incredibly aware that he hadn’t been wearing anything under them, he was nearly sweating, and he wasn’t really sure if they were turning up the heat in the entire club, or if Yuta just ran hotter than anyone else Ten had ever met. He sighed, wishing he’d worn a button-down instead of a t-shirt, so he could have undone a few buttons and gotten some relief.

Alas.

Yuta hummed to himself quietly while he shimmied what turned out to be red hot pants up his legs and adjusted them around his waist carefully, and then he glanced at Ten in the mirror and asked, “You wanna help me glitter up?”

Ten had never wanted and emphatically _not_ wanted anything more in his entire life.

“Sure,” he replied, _very casually,_ getting up from the couch and crossing the room towards where Yuta stood, leaning against the vanity and looking at Ten like he might be his next meal. Ten wouldn’t have minded that.

He could sense the slow changes in Yuta, now, could recognize the way he was slipping into his work mentality. Ten still hadn’t directly asked what Yuta’s job was. Of course, he knew. He fucking knew. But he wanted confirmation. Something in his masochistic soul needed it.

Yuta thumped a jar of petroleum jelly into Ten’s hand silently, eyes half-lidded yet still somehow so intense that Ten was starting to feel nearly as naked as Yuta was. They were inches apart, now, and Ten could _feel_ the heat radiating off Yuta in waves. He felt that shit in his _dick._ It was obnoxious, and exhilarating, and it was making him a little dizzy, in a good way.

“Um… where do I… where do you…” Ten started, and then he trailed off, his hands paused in midair, one clutching the open jar of petroleum jelly and the other just sort of… hanging out. Awkwardly.

Yuta glanced down at his rippled stomach. “Oh, y’know. Just about everywhere,” he replied, waving a hand in the general vicinity of his abs and then up around his collarbones.

 _Perfect._ Two of the places Ten wanted to lick, currently. How convenient.

He tried to keep his long-suffering sigh as quiet as possible, and then Ten dug into the jar of jelly and scooped out a reasonable amount with one hand. He said a short prayer to whoever would listen, and then he touched Yuta.

He slid his palm over Yuta’s abs. “So,” Ten started, and his voice cracked on the word. Yuta was kind enough not to laugh. Ten cleared his throat, ghosting his palm over Yuta’s bellybutton slowly. “ _So,_ ” he repeated, and his voice worked right that time. “What exactly… do you _do_ , here?” He couldn’t meet Yuta’s eyes. Not right now. Besides, he was really enjoying his current, downward view.

Yuta hummed an acknowledgment to the question, then he let out a small, not even a little bit stifled gasp as Ten’s fingers slipped over his nipple. Ten tried not to smile too victoriously.

“Fuck,” Yuta giggled out, and Ten still didn’t look. “I’m a dancer.”

Ten concentrated on willing his burgeoning boner away. “What _kind_ of dancer?”

Yuta sounded amused, now. “The go-go kind.”

Ten re-capped the petroleum jelly, reaching around Yuta for the red glitter. Red, to match his hot pants.

“Do you make tips?” Ten asked, grimacing a bit as he fiddled with the glitter experimentally. Glitter was pretty and all, but it was a nightmare to get off of the body. Stayed around forever. Ten wasn’t generally a fan. But he sucked it up, and coated his hand with the stuff, raising it to Yuta’s chest.

“Mmm. No,” Yuta replied as Ten applied the sparkles. “The patrons aren’t allowed to touch us. We have pedestals. We’re just dancers, there to hype up the crowd.”

Ten ran his glittered fingertips along the curves of Yuta’s collarbones, enjoying the subtle reaction it got. He saw Yuta grip the edge of the counter behind him tighter, watched his breaths come just the tiniest bit faster.

“I see,” Ten murmured, finishing up his task. “That’s cool.”

It _was_ cool. Ten had always liked to dance, but he’d never really thought about doing it in this atmosphere.

“Are you the only one?” he questioned next. “I mean, I saw that one dude… Doyoung-Taeyong… dressed kind of like you…”

Yuta chuckled. “Taeyong. He and I are the only ones right now,” he told Ten. “Usually we’d have… maybe three or four dancers?” Yuta estimated. “But in the last couple weeks two of our guys left, so we’re short right now.”

Ten frowned a little, standing back to admire his handiwork. “Sounds pretty busy for just the two of you.”

Yuta shrugged. “It would be, I guess. But we’ve gotten some help, actually,” he told Ten, smiling brightly. “We borrowed a couple dancers from another club nearby, Lucky’s.”

Ten raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You _poached_ go-go boys from a rival club?? _Scandalous_!”

Snickering, Yuta shook his head. “Not _poached. Borrowed._ It’s not always a competition. Lucky’s does just about as well as we do, and Hui, the owner? Super nice,” Yuta said firmly. “So. _Borrowed_ is the term.”

Ten rolled his eyes, “Yes, sir,” he sassed without thinking, and even though he hadn’t stopped to consider his words before he said them, he gave plenty of consideration to Yuta’s involuntary reaction, which mostly consisted of pupil dilation and a barely concealed growl. _Good._ Ten tucked that bit of information away for later. Just in case, or whatever.

Ten cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he started, as Yuta turned to inspect his glitter in the mirror. “Did I hit all the spots?”

Yuta examined himself, lips pursed as he thought. “Nearly…” He uncapped the petroleum jelly again, swiping two stripes up each of his cheekbones. “Some here, too,” he requested, and Ten did as he was told, decorating Yuta’s face with the last of the glitter stuck to his fingers.

It was a perfect addition, Ten thought. The shimmer made Yuta’s face look otherworldly, less human and more unattainable god. Pretty much what you want in a go-go boy, Ten assumed.

He was shook from those thoughts by a quick knock on the door of Yuta’s room. “Hey, Yuta, we need our uniforms!” a cheerful voice called.

Yuta lifted himself off the counter, taking the few steps towards the door. “Oh, that’s the other thing. While we borrow the go-go boys, they borrow my dressing room,” he told Ten, reaching out to turn the knob and fling the door open. Two shirtless guys, equally as handsome and just as irrationally jacked as Yuta, stood on the other side smiling widely.

“Yuto, Kino, this is Ten,” Yuta introduced, waving a vague hand around to indicate who was who. “Room’s all yours!” Yuta said pleasantly, pulling Ten out by the collar of his shirt into the hallway and shutting the door behind them before Ten could really catch up properly. He glanced down at his hands, and even in the darker hallway, he could see the glitter still lingering on them.

“Um, I might need to…” he started, raising his palms to show Yuta.

Yuta laughed. “Oh, shit. Yeah. Come on, Doyoung’ll let you use his sink,” Yuta decided, and once again reached for Ten’s collar to direct him.

*

“I most certainly will not,” the previously bolt-cutting bartender snorted, arms crossed at Yuta’s request. “You’re not clogging up my glass-washing sink with your cheap, craft-grade glitter.”

Still on his stool at the bar, the guy Ten guessed was named Taeyong giggled. “You can use the sink. Stop being mean, baby.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes, but he moved aside obediently, letting Ten pass through and head for the sink at the back of the bar while he was still allowed to.

Yuta was throwing some snark back at Doyoung, informing him that he only used the finest, biodegradable, edible _food-grade_ glitter, _thankyouverymuch_ , when Ten turned on the water and drowned out their voices, watching the shimmer drip off of his hands, twinkling in the neon light of the bar. Surprisingly, the glitter came off much easier than Ten had anticipated, and in only a few seconds he was cleaned up, using a towel hanging nearby to dry off.

When he rejoined Yuta on the patron side of the bar, ignoring the still disapproving stare Doyoung was giving him, Ten was entirely unprepared for the way Yuta reached out with one arm and pulled him close, pulled him right against his body like it was something they did every day, something they’d done even _once_ before right now, and smiled at Doyoung across the bar.

“Now. My friend here has had a very long, difficult day, Doyoung. I’m trying to show him a good time, cheer him up,” Yuta informed the bartender. “Might you have anything that would aid my mission?”

Doyoung sighed, shaking his head in resignation. “Yeah. Sure.” He looked in Ten’s direction. “Pick your poison, handsome.”

Ten stared at the dozens of bottles lined up behind the bar, trying to think of something that sounded classy. He didn’t want Yuta to know that he usually went with cheap, strong and trashy, as far as drinks went. He considered his options for way too long, and then Ten gave up.

“Something with a cocktail umbrella, please.”

Doyoung laughed. Yuta laughed, too, but his was more affectionate. More indulgent. It made Ten smile.

Doyoung fixed his drink quickly, pushing it across the bar towards Ten when he was finished.

The cocktail umbrellas at Climax had tiny penises printed on them. Ten liked this place very much, he decided.

Ten took a sip, and Yuta watched him, an expression on his face that Ten couldn’t really read, not in this lighting, and then Yuta slapped both hands on the bar, shoving himself off the barstool he’d been lounging against. “All right! Time to work, Taeyongie,” Yuta announced.

Taeyong slid his slender body off his own stool, and Ten noticed for the first time that he was decorated with gold glitter, wearing gold hot pants to match. Ten was really enjoying the color coordination that Climax seemed to endorse.

“Kill it, baby,” Doyoung told Taeyong, blowing him a kiss as he washed out glasses behind the bar in the sink Ten had tainted with his glitter.

Taeyong just giggled, the absolute portrait of excessive uwus, and then, as Ten watched, he transformed before Ten’s very eyes. His posture changed, his eyes turned dark and flirtatious, and he was smirking, rather than grinning. He stepped over to Yuta, who was undergoing a similar change. Ten was absolutely, positively _stressed,_ suddenly.

Taeyong slung one arm over Yuta’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” he murmured, and holy shit, his _voice_ had even changed. Color Ten stressed _and_ impressed.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do while Yuta worked, so Ten grabbed his dick-adorned drink off the bar and followed behind them, until they reached the dance floor and split apart, Taeyong hopping onto one pedestal easily and Yuta continuing on to another, in the opposite corner. On the other side of the large, cavernous room, Ten could just make out Yuto/Kino or Kino/Yuto, whichever way it went, dancing on the remaining two pedestals across from each other. Ten found a table near Yuta’s pedestal and sat down, wondering if this was the thing to do. Wondering if maybe he should try to dance. He glanced down. _No. Drink first. Gotta loosen up._

As it turned out, watching Yuta work only made Ten the exact opposite of _loosened up._ Instead, as Yuta danced through song after song, a crowd of admirers forming at the base of his pedestal, Ten sort of started to feel like each and every one of his muscles were coiled, tense, and like he might explode at any minute. To his credit, he held it in, even as he began to notice things.

One, Yuta was a very good dancer. He moved smoothly to the beat of each song, his hips seductive and his sparkling skin tantalizing.

Two, he was a much better _flirt_ than he was a dancer, and given how skilled he was at dancing, that was really saying something. Yuta knew just what to do to charm a crowd, get them hard and wet and wanting, hold each and every member of his audience in the palm of his hand.

Which brought Ten to observation number three: Yuta was literally only performing for one person.

It took two or three songs before he realized it, but Yuta never took his eyes off Ten for long, even as he captured the attention of everyone else around his pedestal. He aimed so many smiles and smirks right in Ten’s direction that when Ten finally noticed them, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

Observation number four: Ten felt the need to have several more drinks than usual, just to deal with…all of _that._

He was on his third drink by the time Yuta took a break, twelve or so songs in. Yuta hopped off his pedestal and made a beeline for Ten, just as Doyoung whirled by and dropped off something in a shot glass at Ten’s table. Ten sincerely hoped it wasn’t for him, he wasn’t the shot-doing type, and…

_Oh._

Yuta grabbed the small glass immediately, flopping into the chair across from Ten and downing whatever liquid it was filled with in one go. Ten watched quietly, trying not to openly drool. He’d been trying, more or less since the grocery store, which already felt months removed from this moment, instead of hours.

Yuta leaned forward, motioning for Ten to do the same. When their faces were so close together that Ten began to wonder what would happened if he just hauled off and kissed Yuta, the dancer smiled that wide smile that made Ten weak, and asked, “Are you having fun?”

Ten was having so much fucking fun he could hardly stand it, honestly. He wasn’t sure if he felt that way because of where he’d started his evening, versus where it was ending up, or because he was genuinely happy to be here, or how much Yuta had to do with it all, but he decided not to care.

“Yeah!” he answered, shouting to be heard over the club’s bass-boosted music. “A lot of fun!”

Yuta’s smile got even wider. “I’m glad!” he yelled back, his eyes floating to Ten’s empty glass. “Do you need another drink?”

Ten glanced down. He hadn’t even noticed he’d drained his third beverage of the night. “Oh, I think I need some…” he started, but he didn’t get to finish the thought, because Doyoung sped by one more time, dropping off two bottles of water right in front of Ten and Yuta. _Holy shit._ The guy was a fucking miracle, if Ten was being honest.

Yuta laughed at Ten’s amazement. “He’s a super good bartender, right??” he exclaimed, taking a long swig off his bottle. “I try not to drink _tooooooooo_ much on the job,” Yuta continued, drawing out the word playfully. “But it’s not always easy!”

Ten just sort of nodded in agreement, because he really had no metric with which to understand how it was to work in a place like this. Yuta probably had men buying him drinks all night, every night, on top of the freebies he got from Doyoung. The last time anyone bought Ten a drink, it had been the girl working the drive-thru at McDonald’s, and it was because his credit card got declined.

He tried not to think about that too deeply, right now. It would only serve to depress him, and anyway, Yuta seemed to be saying something, so Ten tuned back in to find out what it was.

“Do you wanna try it?” Yuta was ask-shouting, looking mischievous.

Ten had obviously missed some important part of the conversation. He had no idea what Yuta was talking about, or how many times he’d nodded and smiled and _hmm_ ed while his brain reminded him of his recent failures. It might have been a lot.

“Try what?” Ten yelled back, drinking some more water.

“The pedestal?” Yuta half-questioned, motioning to what amounted to his cubicle in this weird version of an office building.

“ _Oh,_ ” Ten stammered in response. “Oh. Oh, _no._ No. Nope. I’m not. I don’t do. I don’t--” He stopped short of saying _I don’t dance._ That would have been a flat-out lie. “I’m not, y’know…” Ten gripped his water bottle a bit too tight. It maybe crumpled a bit under his fingers. He was maybe, probably, a lot nervous. Suddenly. For reasons.

“I’m not dressed for it,” Ten finally settled on, thinking that would effectively end the topic.

He was mistaken.

“Not yet, you aren’t,” Yuta said, hopping off his chair and grabbing Ten by his belt loops, bodily pulling him across the club yet again, and when Ten remembered Yuta stuffing Ten’s ill-advised silver holographic hot pants into his back pocket while they were at Ten’s apartment, his heart nearly stopped beating.

“Two of us can fit on there, y'know,” Yuta was saying as they got to a quieter part of the club, closer to the dressing rooms. “It’s a pretty big pedestal.”

Ten panicked harder.

By the time they made it to Yuta’s dressing room, Ten’s brain was working overtime, trying to think of anything that would acquit him from this whole situation, this _idea_ Yuta was having. He didn’t _need_ to try go-go dancing. He _couldn’t._ Sure, he was sort of an exhibitionist on a good day, but this was a _bad_ day, okay? Just because his evening had turned into this weird mixture of exhilaration and arousal and giggles so far, didn’t change the facts.

It also didn’t change the fact that Yuta was stripping him down, fast, turning to dig through the duffel bag he’d tossed Ten’s traitorous hot pants into until he found them.

Ten thought about planting his feet firmly on the carpet underneath them, refusing to allow Yuta to dress him up and make him do this. But, those very same feet moved on their own, lifting one after the other to give Yuta the opportunity to slip the offending garment up just below Ten’s waist. He didn’t even stop to think about the fact that Yuta had now, suddenly, seen him one hundred percent naked. Ten didn’t even consider the copious amounts of interest in Yuta’s eyes at the very sight of him, before the hot pants were even on. He was too busy _flipping the fuck out._

He was flipping out so hard, in fact, that he didn’t say anything at all as Yuta slathered his entire chest and stomach with petroleum jelly. Ten didn’t say a word in protest when Yuta produced a jar of silver glitter from parts unknown, applying it much more messily than Ten had done to him just a little over an hour before.

Yuta was swiping that silver glitter over Ten’s cheeks by the time Ten finally found his voice.

“Look, I’m… I’m not a dancer,” he squeaked out, having decided to go with the lie, because it might be the only thing that would save him from this.

“Bullshit,” Yuta replied immediately, wiping the silver on his hands onto his own arms carelessly. Ten stared at it, at their combination of red and silver together, willing his mind not to make it into a metaphor, one related very strongly to their _bodies_ smashing together recklessly.

When Ten didn’t have anything to say, once again, Yuta went on. “You _are_ a dancer.”

Ten swallowed. “How do you know?”

Yuta whipped out a black eyeliner pencil. It might have been hiding up his ass, honestly. Ten had no idea where all these supplies were coming from. The only explanation he had was go-go boy magic.

“Because of the way you move,” Yuta answered, softer, as he concentrated on lining Ten’s eyes with the pencil. “Even when you’re clumsy, it’s graceful. You know how to move your body.”

Ten had no rebuttal for that, because it was true.

“I can tell you know. And, look,” Yuta went on, finishing his work on Ten’s eyelids, “You’ve had a shit day. I get that.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Sometimes, the only way to get over a shit day, to move on from some part of your life that’s over and done with, is to go out of your comfort zone,” Yuta said wisely. It _sounded_ wise to Ten, anyhow. He wondered if those three drinks he’d had were already on top of him, a little. “Sometimes you have to do something crazy, to prove to yourself that you’re going to be okay.”

Once again, there was literally no arguing with Yuta’s impassioned logic. Ten was having a very, _very_ weird day.

But he was still uncertain.

“I just… I don't think I can,” Ten said softly, looking at the floor. “He… he made me feel worthless, today. And maybe he was right.” Ten didn't mention any names. He figured Yuta knew what he was talking about.

A brief silence followed Ten’s words, one that he could feel churning in the pit of his stomach, and then Yuta took a deep breath, tilting Ten’s face up with one finger. Forcing him to deal with this.

“Listen to me. You're _not_ worthless. I know enough about you to know that,” Yuta said firmly. “You're sweet and decent and funny, and like… _super_ fucking hot, okay?” Their eyes were locked together, and Yuta was staring straight into Ten’s soul.

“You _can_ do this. Fuck that guy. He doesn't know what he lost,” Yuta scoffed. “And he may not be here to see it, but _I_ want you to show me all the things he was missing out on, Ten. I want to see everything.”

Yuta gave him a moment, then. A moment to consider, to decide if he was truly going to do this. If he was going to let go of everything weighing down on him and taste something new. Embrace some new freedom that he previously hadn’t even really known existed.

_Fuck it._

“Okay,” Ten said breathlessly. “Okay.”

Yuta’s eyes smiled into his. “Okay?”

Ten made himself smile back. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be.

“Okay.”

*

The dance floor of Climax on a Friday night would have been enough to intimidate anyone on their _best_ day, Ten thought as he followed Yuta to his pedestal. The crowd was at full capacity, now, the entire club teeming with half-dressed bodies trying their best to press against each other’s in the dark dance hall. Maybe they wouldn’t even _notice_ Ten on the pedestal, he reasoned. He wasn’t sure if that would be a good thing, or not.

Doyoung appeared out of nowhere just as Ten was about to take a deep breath and join Yuta, pushing a shot glass into Ten’s hand. Ten barely had time to flash the bartender a grateful look before he was gone again, disappearing back into the depths of the club in a puff of glittery smoke like the gay liquor-wielding wizard he undoubtedly was.

Ten looked down at the shot, and then up at Yuta, waiting for him on the pedestal with his arms crossed and a dare in his eyes.

His brain stumbled over the words of the only prayer he remembered from his church-going childhood, and then Ten took the shot all at once and set the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter, lifting his body onto the pedestal beside Yuta carefully.

It took a minute for Ten to get his bearings, to steady himself and find a spot for his feet. It took another few seconds for him to realize that Yuta had been absolutely right: it was bigger up here than it seemed from the ground. There was enough room for he and Yuta to be there separately, but it was just small enough to make any configuration of multiples on top of the pedestal want to get real, _real_ close together.

Not that Ten needed any extra motivation for that desire, currently.

Yuta flashed him one of his beautiful, heart-melting grins, and then he began to dance, to work, moving his body to the beat of the music. Ten watched him for a second, then he glanced down at the small crowd forming below them. For every person whose gaze was directed only at Yuta, there was another person focused just on Ten. For every person watching Ten, there were twice as many who plainly wanted to see what would happen when two people shared one pedestal. Ten stood there awkwardly, digging his bare toes into the soft carpet of the pedestal, and he wasn’t dancing, not yet, until suddenly, he was.

His body began to move on its own, without Ten telling it to. This was the way it always went for Ten. When there was music around, he danced. He danced without realizing it, half the time. He danced on the subway and he danced around his apartment. It was in his blood, tattooed on his bones. It was who he was.

So, he danced.

Ten closed his eyes at first. He had to warm up a little, probably. This was all so new, after all. He retreated into himself the tiniest bit, working on accessing the parts of his personality he needed to _make_ this work. Ten found them easily enough, brimming at the surface, begging to bubble over.

He let them.

By the time Ten opened his eyes, he wasn’t just swaying from side to side, anymore. He was in the moment, a part of the song, and somewhere deep inside, he was aware he was acting, too. He was playing a role. He was the guy all the other guys wanted. The unattainable yet perfectly available fantasy. And it was working.

Ten heard the cheers and applause from the ground. At first, he assumed they were for Yuta, but then his pedestal partner leaned close enough to be heard over to the music, and whispered, “Look, baby. They love you.”

Ten looked.

At least half of the pairs of eyes below were right on him, following every thrust of his hips, every bite of his lip and wink he threw in to the spontaneous choreography. Ten let the reaction bolster him, even getting brave enough at one point to try a little pole work, but as it turned out, the pedestal wasn’t _quite_ big enough for two dancers trying to work the pole at once, and Yuta nearly toppled off his side when Ten swung his body sideways. He felt a little bad about that, but the other dancer seemed to recover quick enough, and he was laughing afterward. So it was okay, Ten guessed.

Ten and Yuta danced through song after song, up there above the audience. Sometimes one of them took the lead. Sometimes they got as close as they could, their hands everywhere, all over each other as their bodies hit the rhythm of the music swirling around each corner of the club and back into the center. Yuta even let Ten dance a few by himself, hopping down from the pedestal to give him the whole spotlight. He never went far, though, staying right under where Ten danced. Watching every move and flirting up at Ten with his eyes until finally, the tables had turned and Ten was dancing for Yuta. Only Yuta.

He locked eyes with Yuta and dropped his body all the way down, knees bent as he bounced ever so slightly, and then Ten held out a hand and Yuta took it, letting Ten pull him back up onto the pedestal. Ten liked it better when Yuta was there with him.

He liked it so much, in fact, that at his first opportunity, on the very first break he took from the pedestal, Ten borrowed some money from Doyoung and bought a small packet of lube from the vending machine near the bar. He went back to Yuta’s dressing room, locking the door and yanking his hot pants down to his ankles and fucked himself with three fingers until he was so close to cumming that there were stars in his eyes.

Ten stopped just short of giving himself release. He figured it would only help his general attitude, up there on the pedestal.

He was right.

For the rest of the night, he could feel his hole fluttering and clenching desperately around nothing, dripping lube every so often. It turned Ten right the fuck on, as if he wasn’t already worked up to begin with, and it made him dance even harder. Flirt even more shamelessly. Hell, at one point, there was so much white noise in Ten’s ears that the only way to get rid of it was to pull Yuta to him by the waistband of his hot pants and reach right in to feel his cock, wrap his fingers around it for a moment. Just so he would know. He wanted to know that he was doing as much to Yuta as Yuta was doing to him.

The results of that experiment were very satisfying, to say the least.

Things got sort of blurry after that. Not because Ten was getting any drunker, really. In fact, he stopped drinking entirely after that last shot, sticking to water instead, and Yuta did the same. He wondered if this was how Yuta typically did things, or if he was trying to be clearer tonight than usual.

No, things were incredible and blurry, but it was because Ten was finally, _truly_ happy. Happier than he’d been in weeks. Months, maybe. More himself than he’d felt in a very long time. Being on the pedestal was getting a taste of the kind of freedom Ten had craved his whole life. He just hadn’t really thought about it until now. Hadn’t realized an answer even existed. He danced song after song, still going even when Yuta got tired and took breaks. He didn’t care how much his body might hurt the next day. This was the best sort of catharsis he could have ever asked for, or gotten.

He was so glad Yuta was the one he got to share it with.

By the time the club started to empty out, patrons wandering out through the double doors and onto the street, pouring themselves into waiting taxis at the curb, Ten was positively _giddy._ He kept giggling, and smiling, which wasn’t exactly helping him maintain a cool dancing persona, but he didn’t care. Yuta didn’t seem to care either, laughing and grinning right along with him, until they were the last two go-go boys on the pedestals, and then they were the last two people in the main room that weren’t Johnny the DJ, content to keep providing music as long as someone would dance to it.

Finally, Yuta jumped down off the pedestal and reached up for Ten, helping him down gently even though Ten could have jumped it, too. It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture, and it made Ten even giddier. They giggled together all the way to Yuta’s dressing room, where Yuto and Kino had long since come back and changed into their street clothes and left, and then Yuta shut the door and they were alone all over again.

(Ten sort of felt like they’d been alone all night. Yuta was the only person he’d been able to concentrate on for longer than ten seconds.)

“Hey,” Yuta said when he turned around, closing the small distance between them until it didn’t exist anymore. “Hey,” he repeated, softer, bringing his hands up to cup Ten’s face, and Ten let him, and then, before Ten realized it was happening, they were kissing.

Yuta’s lips were gentle on his, at first. They asked questions, questions that Ten ached to answer, and so he tried. He tried with his own lips, and his tongue, pressing it against Yuta’s mouth until he opened up for Ten. It didn’t take long. Yuta was right there with him every second, so incredibly _present_ at all times. He seemed to live completely in the moment, to suck all the marrow he could out of life’s bones until they were bare, and Ten wanted to do that, too. He _needed_ to.

Their bodies had pressed themselves to each other’s right away, straining to get closer and closer, and when Yuta pulled back the tiniest bit, Ten looked down and he was dazzled, hypnotized by the kaleidoscope of red and silver streaked across his belly, the way their colors looked together. Ten giggled softly, running his fingers through the glitter decorating Yuta’s abs, and he heard the way it made Yuta sigh into his own quiet laughter. Ten had barely lifted his head back up when Yuta kissed him again, harder now. More insistent. With more purpose behind each lick into Ten’s mouth, Yuta’s hands moving down Ten’s back to dig into the soft flesh just under his hot pants.

Without thinking, Ten reached down and pushed those little silver pants down all the way to his ankles, and he had almost managed to step out of them completely when suddenly, Yuta’s own hot pants were gone and he was lifting Ten up easily, holding him close with one hand under each of Ten’s thighs, and Ten didn’t have time to think about how or why he wasn’t standing on the ground anymore, why he felt like he was floating in Yuta’s strong embrace, before his back thudded against the dressing room wall and Yuta’s mouth was _everywhere._

It was everywhere all at once, trailing kisses down Ten’s neck and across his collarbones, and Ten’s legs were wrapped around Yuta now, and he didn’t think Yuta was quite aware of the way he was rutting up against Ten absentmindedly, the head of his cock trying to find its way inside Ten but getting distracted by the rest of him instead. Ten chuckled under his breath, maneuvering his still half-wet, still very much stretched opening into just the right position, and on Yuta’s next mindless thrust upward, he filled Ten up in one smooth motion. Yuta let out a gasp, his eyes going wide as they tried to focus on Ten.

When Ten could tell he’d just about come back to himself, he smiled into Yuta’s eyes, and leaned forward to kiss him again. Kissing Yuta was electrifying. Ten felt like his whole body was on fire, but it wasn’t the kind of burn that would hurt as it overtook him. It was a gentle, slow heat, one that started in his toes and lingered between his legs, and Ten wanted more. He wanted it all.

Yuta’s cheek pressed against his as he began to fuck Ten against the wall, his pace almost maddeningly lazy, but the erratic shudder of his breaths gave him away. Ten turned his head, planting small kisses on Yuta’s nose, his forehead, both cheeks, all the places he could reach. Yuta felt so fucking _good_ inside him, so good and warm and heart-shakingly _real._ Ten felt safe. He felt beautiful.

He felt _good enough._

No words passed between them as Yuta continued rolling his hips, pulling almost all the way out of Ten’s wet heat before pumping all the way back in, over and over. They spoke in actions, instead, exchanging touches and kisses, and it was the sweetest conversation Ten thought he’d ever had. Every once in a while, Yuta would think to lift his head up from where it rested on Ten’s shoulder, and the look in his eyes, the sheer wonder and amazement and happiness, made Ten absolutely euphoric. He’d never felt anything like this. They weren’t making love. It wasn’t that big. It was comfort. It was a thank you for everything, thank you for _you,_ and a you’re welcome. It was astoundingly pure for the location, in the dressing room in the back of a gay bar after hours.

Ten loved it.

They stayed there for what felt like forever, Yuta pushing all his confidence into Ten and Ten eating it up greedily, the only sounds filling the four walls around them their ragged breaths and soft moans.

It felt like forever, and it also seemed like only a few seconds had passed in the end, when Yuta braced himself with one palm on the wall next to Ten’s head, his other arm still holding Ten up securely, and began to fuck him faster. The build-up had been so slow, so gentle, that Ten barely noticed until he noticed he was _close, so fucking close,_ and he could tell Yuta was too, and Yuta asked a silent question with his wild eyes and Ten answered him with a kiss.

In the next moment, Yuta was spilling into Ten and Ten was spilling onto Yuta, painting his belly with all the pent-up lust and desire that had lived in him since earlier that evening. Probably, it had been there for a lot longer, just building up without Ten realizing. Yuta deserved it, Ten thought. Yuta deserved the world.

Yuta was still pressing Ten into the wall, but Ten could feel his arm starting to tremble with the effort of it post-orgasm, and after a while, he nudged his face into the crook of Yuta’s neck, nodding towards the couch when it made Yuta glance back at him curiously.

They collapsed onto the furniture in a small, shaky heap, and Ten rolled off of where he’d ended up, in Yuta’s lap, until he was sprawled next to him, their legs tangled up in each other’s while they recovered.

Ten used the time to think, as best he could. He was aware that he probably wasn’t making the best decisions, tonight. He was emotional and freshly wounded, still. He definitely wasn’t ready to jump into anything new so soon after his last relationship had ended.

“Mmmph,” Ten grunted, slapping at Yuta weakly to get his attention. Yuta lifted his head the tiniest amount off the arm of the couch, enough to meet Ten’s eyes before they both had to flop back down again.

“Yeah?” Yuta asked finally, after several long seconds of trying to get the word out.

“I’m not ready,” Ten murmured, forcing himself to string the sentence together properly, because it was important that he say it. He closed his eyes, waiting for Yuta to answer. Hoping he understood what Ten meant, although it had been terribly vague.

“Ready for what?” Yuta responded after a while. He sounded faraway, almost dreamy. Ten didn’t want him dozing off before he’d said his piece. He took a deep breath and sat up, still dizzy and blushing. He aimed a few more light smacks at Yuta’s leg, until the other dancer straightened up too, albeit in a far more grumpy manner.

“I mean,” Ten started again, still trying to catch his breath. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to get involved in anything new right now. Yet. Y’know.” He had to stop then, to gather his thoughts once more. Yuta was watching him with one squinted eye, waiting for him to finish.

“I don’t think I should jump into a new relationship,” Ten managed finally, closing his eyes again once the words were out, although he kept himself propped up on his elbows.

He heard Yuta let out a short chuckle. “I don’t really do relationships, sweetheart.”

Any other day, any other situation, Ten would have found those words, that very _thought,_ incredibly offensive, when directed at him. But somehow, tonight, Ten was mostly just _intrigued._

“Oh?” he prodded, eyes opening again to regard Yuta.

Yuta sat up a bit more, running a hand through his hair and shrugging. “Yeah. It’s not really… my style, I guess. I’m more of a… spread the love type, y’know?”

 _Huh._ Ten was tangentially aware of what Yuta was talking about, although he’d never once thought about giving the lifestyle a try. Maybe it warranted more research…

“That’s, uh… that’s interesting,” Ten replied after a moment, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Yuta laughed again. “Is it?”

Ten shrugged. “Sure.”

Yuta gave him as serious a look as Ten thought he could probably muster, in his current state. “You sure that’s okay with you? I don’t want you to feel like what just happened didn’t mean anything to me,” Yuta said. “It did.”

Ten blushed. “I know.” He _did_ know. Yuta had made that much clear, and it meant the world to Ten, honestly.

“Good,” Yuta replied with an affectionate grin, reaching over to wrap an arm around Ten and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I want us to be friends, and that means total honesty.” He paused, thinking. “And probably a lot more fucking.”

Ten snickered. “I think I’m okay with that.”

Just then, they were interrupted by a loud knock on the door of Yuta’s dressing room. Ten let out an embarrassed yelp, diving off the couch towards his hot pants. He’d thought everyone else was gone. Yuta, for his part, looked much less surprised, and much less inclined to return to his clothed state. He got up and padded towards the door, still very, very naked, and flung it open just as Ten was yanking his hot pants back up to his waist. Briefly, he wondered if they would reach all the way to his nipples, to cover up more of his embarrassment. _Probably not._

He glanced up just in time to see Doyoung the bartender bustle inside, tugging on one side of the mini-fridge he’d been taking a pair of bolt cutters to at the beginning of the evening. Hauling the other end was Taeyong, and Ten was momentarily impressed that a skinny twink like Taeyong could manage that much heavy lifting. Maybe he was working out, so he could graduate to twunk status. Ten supported that.

Also, he supported whatever the hell was currently happening, because it meant he wouldn’t have to spend the next week wondering what The Deal With the Fridge was.

“Hey, man,” Doyoung said breathlessly once the fridge had been deposited onto the floor of Yuta’s dressing room. “Can I keep this in here?”

Yuta shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. Plug’s over there,” he offered, pointing across the room with one arm while the other finally began pulling his previously discarded gym shorts back up his legs slowly.

Doyoung waved a hand dismissively. “No need. It’s already been mined of its treasure.”

“Oh?” Yuta asked, raising an eyebrow. “What treasure?”

Behind Doyoung, Taeyong grinned. “Only my dowry, Yuta,” he remarked with a sly wink.

Yuta snorted. “What is this, the Middle Ages?”

Doyoung chuckled. “Yeah, if they had any 2013 Dom Perignon Rose Gold Methuselah in the Middle Ages.”

Yuta and Ten responded with blank stares at this information, and Doyoung rolled his eyes.

“It’s only one of the top four most expensive bottles of champagne in the world, dudes. Only thirty-five were made, and Taeyong’s dad bought one of them.”

Taeyong’s grin widened. “He’s been keeping it in this fridge all chained up for five years. He said he would give it to the man he deemed worthy of my love, when I met him.”

Doyoung scowled a little. “Yeah, except his idea of gifting it to me was to drop it off on my porch without warning when I wasn’t home, padlocked mini-fridge and all.”

Taeyong patted Doyoung on the arm reassuringly. “He knew you would put in the work to open it, baby.” Ten watched as Doyoung tried (and failed) not to blush, at that.

Yuta looked back at Doyoung. “How much is something like that worth?”

Doyoung shrugged. “Oh, y’know. Just a casual _fifty-five million won._ ”

“Jesus Christ,” Ten muttered under his breath, and at the same time, Yuta breathed, “Holy _shit._ ”

There was a slightly awkward pause in the room while Ten and Yuta finished absorbing that information, and then Yuta spoke up again. “So, we’re totally drinking the whole bottle tomorrow night, right?”

The scowl returned to Doyoung’s face. “We absolutely are _not,_ you peasant. It’s going to sit behind my bar, unopened, in a glass case for all of eternity, because the only person worthy of drinking it is Taeyong, and he gets sloshed after half a beer, alright?”

Taeyong frowned. “You don’t have to keep bringing that up, babe,” he said reproachfully. Doyoung’s scowl melted into a sweet grin, and he kissed his boyfriend’s cheek.

“But it’s so cute!” he protested, poking Taeyong in the ribs gently, much to the amusement of Yuta and Ten, and the open chagrin of the poked.

“Anyway,” Doyoung started again, “We’re heading out. Don’t forget to turn off all the lights when you leave and turn the air conditioner up to at least twenty-five so our electric bill isn’t ridiculous, and lock the door--”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Yes, _Dad,_ ” he intoned, all but pushing Doyoung and Taeyong out of the room and closing the door behind them again.

Ten laughed softly, busying himself with locating all his street clothes and cleaning up the mess they’d left from all the glitter and sex that had gone on in Yuta’s dressing room that evening. He was just pulling on his jeans and shaking the wrinkles out of his t-shirt when Yuta spoke up again.

“You know…” Yuta began, and when Ten glanced up, Yuta’s brow was furrowed in thought, “Even if you’re not looking for a relationship, you don’t have to look any further for a job, if you don’t want.”

Ten frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked, pushing his t-shirt over his head quickly.

Yuta was smiling now, just a little. “I mean, we _are_ short a couple go-go boys. I’m sure Lucky’s would be glad to have at least one of the two we poached from them back.”

Ten felt his heart skip a few beats, but he tried to play it cool. He wasn’t sure how well it worked. “Oh, so you _admit_ that you poached them! I knew it!” he exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Yuta before turning back to his task, hoping he could hide the goofy grin that was threatening to overtake his entire face, suddenly.

The dancer just giggled, watching Ten continue to clean up all the makeup spread out on the vanity with a fond expression on his face.

“Maybe we did,” Yuta agreed easily. “But they’re awful pretty prizes.”

Ten giggled. “Not as pretty as me.”

Yuta came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Ten’s waist and leaning over his shoulder to plant a sweet kiss on Ten’s neck, one that made Ten shiver happily. “Never in a million years,” Yuta whispered in Ten’s ear, and then he leaned away. “So, what do you say?”

Ten bit his lip, looking up into the mirror. He looked at Yuta, still standing close, waiting for an answer. He looked at himself, eyes lined and glitter everywhere. He looked happy. He _felt_ happy, for the first time in ages. This place made him happy, and Yuta made him happy. Ten wanted to _keep_ being happy.

“Okay,” he said finally, meeting Yuta’s eyes once more.

“Okay?” Yuta questioned, just to make sure.

Ten nodded. There was no going back, now. He didn’t want to.

Yuta grinned, just a touch of smugness playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, then.”

“Welcome to Climax, baby.”


End file.
